


Poof

by Melyanna (darthmelyanna)



Series: west-gate: A West Wing/Stargate Crossover [12]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 12:24:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17601320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthmelyanna/pseuds/Melyanna
Summary: A freak accident gives Helen Santos and Donna Moss an up-close and personal look at the Pegasus galaxy operation.  Rodney wonders what he's done right.  Helen's asked to do a little espionage.  People wonder if Elizabeth's a fascist.  It's pretty much par for the course in Atlantis.





	1. Chapter 1

“I’m really sorry about this,” Donna Moss was saying for the eighteenth time that hour.

“Donna, would you stop?” Helen Santos asked of her quietly. “It wasn’t your fault that they seriously overrated themselves.”

The two women were currently wandering through a tiny museum of natural history somewhere in the middle of Wisconsin. Helen wasn’t even sure what town they were in anymore. It had recently been closed, completely remodeled, and reopened with new exhibits. So they’d managed to get the First Lady of the United States to come to the grand reopening by being rather. . . generous in their description of the place, and by virtue of the fact that Donna Moss rarely turned down an invitation to Wisconsin.

Normally Helen would have been annoyed at that kind of thing, but truth be told, she wasn’t entirely sure Donna knew she was doing it.

Of course, Helen also felt a little more sorry for Donna than for herself. Her chief of staff was currently six months pregnant with her third child, after having decided that two was enough, and having a harder time of it than she’d had with her previous pregnancies. Poor Donna just looked incredibly uncomfortable.

In an exhibit on something to do with the Mayans, they paused in front of a display containing a large, weathered stone with faint inscriptions. There was a metal plate on the center of one face. “Huh,” Helen said, leaning over to peer at it closer.

“What?” Donna asked, glancing up from her cell phone.

“This doesn’t look like the rest of the stuff in the room,” Helen replied.

“You’re right, it doesn’t,” Donna replied, looking around. “I wonder why it’s not behind glass.”

“They’re probably not that worried about what damage you could possibly do to a rock.”

Donna tapped Helen’s arm while dialing her cell phone. “When we get back to Washington, Karen Cahill wants–”

But by the time Donna was midsentence, Helen had reached out for no good reason and touched the metal panel. She felt a tingling sensation jolt up her arm, and everything around them suddenly went white.

“–to meet with us?” Donna finished.

The artifact they’d been studying was gone, though Helen hadn’t removed her hand from it. In fact, the entire exhibit was gone, and they were in a room that was cold, dark, damp, and empty.

“Donna,” Helen said, looking around.

“Where the hell are we?” Donna asked, her cell phone at her ear as she looked around in shock.

“I don’t know,” Helen replied, “but I don’t think we’re in Wisconsin anymore.”

* * *

  
Ronna Falick was hovering around her desk, waiting for a call from Donna Moss, when she happened to glance at the Secret Service locator box, the one that had readouts from the GPS locators on all members of the First Family. She rarely even read the thing anymore, but something about it this time made her look twice. In the moment that her eyes had rested on it the first time, the location field for Helen Santos had gone blank.

Alarmed, Ronna did what her father had always done when the television stopped working – whacked the box in an inane hope of it working again. Predictably, it did not.

While she was hitting the box again, she heard the President coming in and talking behind her. “And make sure this gets back to– Ronna?”

She whirled around. “Mr. President.”

“Why are you beating on federal property?” Santos asked. Sam Seaborn was with him.

Helplessly, she waved at the locator box. “Mrs. Santos disappeared off the box,” she said.

“What?” he demanded, coming up to the desk in three steps. “What do you mean, she disappeared?”

But before Ronna could answer, there was a flurry of activity in the hall. A moment later the Secret Service agents came in. “Excuse me,” Ron Butterfield said, “Mr. President, we need to take all of you down to the bunker.”

None of them objected, really, as the agents whisked them away. They’d all been there before. The President, however, was not quiet as they headed out. “Ronna said Helen wasn’t showing up on the locator box,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” Ron replied. “She and Donna Moss were at the museum opening today, and they just disappeared.”

“Disappeared,” Matt repeated.

“We’re not sure what happened,” Ron said. “They were standing in front of an artifact, the First Lady may or may not have touched something, and there was some kind of flash of light.”

As they got down to a cinder block hallway, Santos asked, “Has anyone called Admiral Harper yet?”

* * *

  
They’d been wandering for probably an hour when Helen finally took her shoes off. She would have stripped her pantyhose off as well, but the floor turned out to be awfully cold and she needed _something_ between her soles and that surface. “This place is enormous,” she said. It must have been the fifteenth time she’d said it since they’d arrived there. Donna was just getting incredibly cranky, alternating between digging through her purse for another piece of technology to try and rubbing her belly.

“And yet their cell reception still sucks,” Donna said in disgust, closing up her phone. “My battery’s going to die pretty soon, and I can’t get any signal.” She came up to a door and pushed at it. “What is wrong with this place?”

Helen walked up behind her, and the door slid open. “See, Donna, you just have to have the right touch.”

“You didn’t touch it at all.”

“True.”

The broad corridor they’d been in ended there, intersecting with a much narrower one. “So,” Donna said, “left or right?”

They didn’t end up making a choice, however, as it was just a few moments later that they heard footsteps echoing down the corridor. Helen took an instinctive step backward, and two silhouettes appeared down the way, running toward them. As they pounded past, the smaller of the two – though they were both very tall – turned his head to look at them and ran straight into the wall as the corridor turned sharply. He went flying back and hit the floor.

The other man stopped and stared, and Helen burst out laughing, covering her mouth and almost doubling over. The man on the floor looked up at them oddly. “Mrs. Santos?” he said. “Donna?”

His behemoth of a running partner, with dreadlocks and very strange clothing, glanced at the women uncertainly. “You know them?” he asked.

Helen managed to compose herself and finally realized that the man pulling his butt off the floor was none other than Colonel John Sheppard. Suddenly she knew exactly where they were, and the idea of it made her want to laugh some more. “Mrs. Santos, all due respect, but how the hell did you end up here?” Sheppard asked.

“It might be nice to know where here is,” Donna put in.

“You’re in a submarine level of Atlantis,” John said. “Assuming you’re really here. . .”

The other guy thwapped Donna’s arm as though trying to prove that they were real. “Oww!” Donna said with a glare.

“So who are they?” the big man asked.

“I’m Helen Santos,” Helen replied before John could. “My husband is the President of the United States.”

“That’s your country, right?” he said to John.

“Right.” John gestured to Donna. “And this is Donna Moss, who seems to be pregnant.”

“Colonel, you’re amazingly observant,” Helen replied, trying not to laugh.

“We’re really proud of his skills in that area,” the stranger said, and they smirked at each other.

“Mrs. Santos, this is Ronon Dex,” John said, ignoring their remarks. “One of our Pegasus allies.”

“So when do we figure out how we got here?” Helen asked.

“And can I sit at some point?” Donna asked.

“Oh! Yeah,” Sheppard said, his chivalry seeming to kick in. It hadn’t been all that long ago, after all, that his own wife had been pregnant, and Helen had no doubt that he remembered what that was like for Dr. Weir. He gestured down the corridor and said, “There are some benches down the way if you want to sit now.”

“Will there be a lot of walking after?”

“Uh, yeah, we have to walk up to the nearest transporter to get to the control room.”

“Then let’s just go,” Donna said. “I want to sit and stay somewhere for a while.”

“Come on,” John replied, pointing back in the direction he and Ronon had come from. “Let’s get you up to Elizabeth’s office. She’s going to love this.”

* * *

  
John paged Elizabeth up to her office in the middle of Peter and Siah’s nap, which was rather unusual, especially since he didn’t say that it was any kind of emergency. So she got Ellie to sit with the boys while going over requisitions and headed up to her office herself.

When she had crossed the control room and reached the glass catwalk, she stopped dead in her tracks. There were two blonde women sitting in her office, with John and Ronon leaning against her desk and laughing at something. Slowly Elizabeth crossed into the room. “John?” she prompted.

“Ah, Elizabeth, we have guests,” he announced.

The two women turned to look at her, and Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. “Helen?” she said. “Donna?”

John nudged Ronon. “See, I told you she’d recognize them.”

“Okay, what is going on here?” Elizabeth asked.

“We were in a museum,” Helen began.

“In Wisconsin,” Donna interjected.

“One of us may or may not have touched something–”

“Flash of light–”

“Boom,” Helen finished. “Here we are.”

“Actually, I’d call it more of a poof than a boom,” Donna commented.

“So something on Earth transported you here?” Elizabeth asked, walking around to her desk. She got two nods in answer. “Well, I suppose I should call the SGC and let them know you’re safe. I’m sure there are a lot of people panicking back home. How long have you been here?”

Donna picked up her cell phone and flipped it open, presumably to look at the clock. “We were wandering around for about an hour.”

As the other woman snapped her phone shut, Elizabeth finally glanced down at her. “Wow,” she said. “I had no idea you were pregnant.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t exactly planned,” Donna replied.

“Right,” John said, “Elizabeth, you might want to explain to them what’s going on at the SGC.”

“What’s going on at the SGC?” Helen repeated, looking from John to Elizabeth.

“The SGC is currently under quarantine,” Elizabeth replied, grabbing a pen and a pad of paper from her desk. “I think they’ve got a day or two to run, barring disasters. We can’t just send you home now. If the problems at the SGC persist, we can send you home on the _Daedalus_ in a few days. You’re not stuck here forever.”

“Well, I don’t think either of us is going to complain about getting a couple extra vacation days,” Helen replied, laughing a little.

“Ma’am,” John said, “I need you and Donna to understand that you may not be working, but you can’t think of this as a vacation. There are a lot of dangerous things in this city, and you need to be on the alert at all times.”

Meanwhile, Elizabeth jotted down “ _To Admiral Harper: have FLOTUS and COS; will return via Stargate once quarantine is lifted or via Daedalus at earliest possible time_ ” on her pad and came out from behind her desk. “Well,” she said, “I’ll leave John and Ronon to explain what’s off-limits for the next couple days while I contact Earth. If you’re hungry, get the boys to take you down to the mess.”

* * *

Helen wasn’t hungry, actually, and Donna said she just wanted to sit for a while longer, so they waited while Elizabeth walked to the control room. “Hey, what was Karen Cahill calling about?” she asked of Donna.

“You know, I don’t even remember,” Donna replied.

Helen just smiled, but then she was startled by a loud noise she couldn’t begin to describe. She jumped, and John Sheppard laughed a little. “Down there,” he said, pointing through the glass wall.

She looked, and her eyes widened. In the room below, a large ring she hadn’t noticed when they entered through the side door was lighting up, and from the middle sprang some sort of watery substance. “So that’s what the Stargate looks like,” she said, even though she’d seen footage of it before on Sarah Gardner’s television series. It was something even more amazing in person.

Helen watched the puddle, mesmerized, until it dissipated and Elizabeth Weir entered the room again. “Well, I imagine we’ll be hearing from Admiral Harper shortly,” she said, calling their attention away from the room below. “Possibly not until her staff figures out what FLOTUS stands for, but shortly.”

Helen shook her head. “That’s got to be the worst possible acronym.”

“I don’t know about that,” John said. “Elizabeth, you’d be what? DOA?”

“Cute, John,” she replied. Then the gate below fired up again, and Elizabeth smiled. “And that’s probably Admiral Harper.”

Sure enough, a few moments later, someone came into the office and said, “Dr. Weir, Admiral Harper for you.”

“Thank you, Sergeant,” she replied. “I’ll take it in here.”

Helen watched curiously as Elizabeth took a small box out of her desk drawer. “Admiral,” she said after flipping a switch. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Dr. Weir.” There was a little static through the radio as Kate Harper replied. “How is the First Lady possibly there?”

“Well, we haven’t quite figured that out yet,” Elizabeth replied, “but she and Donna Moss both seem to be all right. We’ll be sending them to the infirmary to confirm that shortly. I just figured we should allay the panic that’s undoubtedly going on there.”

“Are they with you?” Harper asked.

“Hello, Admiral,” Helen answered for herself.

“Mrs. Santos,” the admiral said, “the artifact you touched is on its way to Area 51 as we speak for investigation. Colonel Carter will be looking at it herself, I believe.”

“Okay, so how is it that Helen touches this thing and we end up in another galaxy?” Donna asked. “I mean, surely someone’s touched it before.”

“I don’t know,” Elizabeth said, and she looked at John. “Unless. . .”

He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “The ATA gene.”

“Wait a minute, what?” Helen asked.

“That would make sense,” Elizabeth replied to John.

“Hang on a minute,” Harper said. “I’m getting something. . . Yeah, we’re going to patch in the White House.”

Thirty seconds later Matt’s voice filled Elizabeth’s office. “Admiral Harper,” he said, “tell me you have good news.”

“I’ll do you one better than that, Mr. President,” she replied. “Mrs. Santos?”

Helen sat up. “Matt?”

“Helen?” he asked, sounding confused. “Helen, honey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied.

“Oh, thank God,” Matt said. “Is Donna with you? Her and the baby, are they okay?”

“We’re all okay, Mr. President,” Donna replied, smiling a little.

“Okay, now that we’ve established that, where are you and how did you get there?”

Helen looked up at Elizabeth, who leaned over her desk. “President Santos, this is Dr. Weir,” she said. “Crazy as this might sound, Helen and Donna are sitting in my office in Atlantis. How they got here hasn’t quite been determined yet.”

“We’ve got a theory, though, sir,” John put in.

“Colonel Carter’s already suggested the ATA gene might have something to do with it,” Matt replied.

“I just said that not five minutes ago,” John said, gesturing at the radio.

“He did, sir,” Harper said.

“Well, whatever caused it,” Matt continued, “Dr. Weir, why haven’t you sent them on their merry way yet?”

“The quarantine, sir,” Harper answered. “I’m sorry, but my CMO would kill me if I let people in. Plus I don’t think it’s wise to let a pregnant woman in at this point, not with the alien virus and all. Could be all kinds of risks for birth defects and who knows what we haven’t tested for here.”

“The quarantine’s over in two days?”

“Provided there’s no further outbreak. If there is, it’s another three weeks.”

“Sir,” Elizabeth cut in, “the _Daedalus_ is leaving for Earth in three days. If we can’t send Donna and Helen back in two days, we’ll send them back with Caldwell.”

There was a sound like paper ripping followed by a brief silence, and then Matt sighed. “Doctor, Admiral, if there’s nothing else, I’d like a word with my wife. Privately.”

Elizabeth looked up at John, who shrugged. “Nothing else from this end, sir,” she said.

“That’s it for me as well, Mr. President,” Admiral Harper added.

Standing, Elizabeth nodded at the door, and everyone including Donna vacated the room. The glass door closed behind them. “Well,” Helen said, “this has to be our most expensive phone call ever.”

“Honey, are you sure you’re all right?” Matt asked. “You seem awfully calm about this.”

“I’ll have to freak out later,” she replied, getting up. “Why’d you want to speak with me privately?”

He made an irritated sound. “My chief of staff seems to think this would be a good opportunity for us to learn some things about Dr. Weir,” he said. “She’s an enigma to most of us, and there are a few who’d like to know what her intentions are.”

Annoyed, Helen glanced into the next room, where the dark-haired woman was laughing at something and her husband was looking smug. “Matt, you’ve got a lot of nerve asking me to spy on her when she’s letting me use her office to talk to you,” she snapped. “Actually, you’ve got a lot of nerve just asking me to spy on her.”

“Helen,” he said, trying to appease her.

“Tell me you didn’t want to ask me to do this.”

“I didn’t!”

“Then why are you asking me?”

“She’s quite possibly the only person in this country who can stir up a news cycle faster than I can,” he said. He’d moved closer to the microphone. “I can’t control her, I can’t discredit her, I can’t touch her.”

“You’re scared of her,” Helen interpreted.

“Look,” Matt said, avoiding her statement, “I need to know what her intentions are. I don’t have the relationship with her that Jed Bartlet has. I can’t just ask her if she’s planning on running for president, and believe me, that’s –”

“The billion-dollar question,” Helen finished. “I know.”

“So?” he prompted.

She crossed her arms over herself. “I’m not spying on her, Matt,” she said. “I’ll talk to her if I get the chance, but if she asks me not to tell anyone, I’m not going to.”

“Okay. Tell Donna to take it easy.”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Helen.”

“Love you too, honey.”

She turned around and found that Sheppard was watching her, so she nodded. He gestured to someone seated in the room, and the gate shut down. The others were just standing outside, so Helen walked toward the door, which slid away before she could wonder how to open it. Slightly mystified, she walked through.

“Mrs. Santos, Ms. Moss, can I escort you to the infirmary?” John said when she arrived in the next room. “Please bear in mind that you really don’t have much choice in the matter.”

Helen looked at Donna and shook her head. “Well, how can we refuse such an offer?”


	2. Chapter 2

  
“I wonder if Josh has regained consciousness yet,” Donna mused, after a Dr. Beckett, with a very nice accent, finished looking her over.

“Are you kidding?” Helen said from the next infirmary bed. “They probably told him where you are and he passed out again.”

Donna smiled. “True.”

“Your husband, I presume?” the doctor said, then glanced down. “And the father of this wee one?”

“As far as I know,” she replied with a shrug. Beckett looked vaguely horrified, so Donna amended, “Of course he’s the father.”

He sat down on a stool in front of her and began rubbing his stethoscope between his hands. Meanwhile, Helen stood up and started tugging her pantyhose off. Just as she was peeling the nylon off one leg, a man walked through the open doorway and stopped dead in his tracks, staring at Helen.

“Doc, what’s going on?” he demanded. “Why is the First Lady taking off her pantyhose in front of me?”

“I’d imagine she’s a mite uncomfortable, Colonel,” Beckett replied smoothly.

The rank jogged Donna’s memory. This was Colonel Lorne, who’d been on the Bartlet trip to Norway the year before. He was staring rather uncomfortably at Helen. “Okay, what’s the First Lady doing in this galaxy, let alone in this infirmary?” he asked.

Helen looked at Donna pitifully. “Do we really have to go through this whole thing again?”

“What thing?” the colonel asked.

“There was an artifact,” Donna said. “Helen was stupid and touched it. Here we are.”

A nurse had walked up to Beckett by then and handed him a tablet. Donna tried to read it upside down, but couldn’t make out much of it because of the angle. “Actually, there’s slightly more to it than that,” he said. “Turns out Colonel Sheppard’s hypothesis was correct, Mrs. Santos. You have the ATA gene.”

She held her hose over her eyes. “Right, because exactly what I needed right now was finding out that I’m a mutant.”

“Welcome to the club,” Beckett said with a smile.

Then he pushed Donna’s shirt up over her belly a little and pressed the stethoscope to her skin. “Hey, what happened to me being fine?” she asked.

“You are,” he replied. “I’m just checking the baby. I like doing this. I don’t get to all that often.”

“You weren’t pregnant on the Nobel trip, were you?” Colonel Lorne asked.

“Probably got pregnant during the Nobel trip,” Donna answered.

“Right, that was more information than I needed.”

Then Beckett put his stethoscope away. “Well, the little one seems just fine,” he informed Donna. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

She pulled her shirt back down. “We haven’t found out,” she replied. “We’ve got one of each already, so it’s not like we’d need to go out and buy all-new boy or girl stuff.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a good plan.” He got up from the stool and looked over at Helen. “I’m letting you two go, though I have no idea what you’ll be doing while you’re here.”

“That’s what I’m here for, actually,” Lorne put in. “Dr. Weir told me we had a couple visitors who needed to see Dr. Bartlet, but she didn’t tell me who they were.”

“I didn’t know Dr. Weir had a practical jokester side to her,” Helen remarked.

“You should hear some of President Bartlet’s stories,” Donna said. “Why do we need to see Dr. Bartlet?”

“I don’t know,” Lorne replied. “I just do what I’m told.”

“We’ll be here for a few days,” Helen said. “We’ll need clothes.”

“And Dr. Weir is the only person in the city with maternity clothes that would fit you, Ms. Moss,” said Lorne as he waved them toward the door. “We’ve had a few other women here have babies, but none were as tall as you.”

They’d walked down the corridor in silence a little way, toward what looked like a transporter, if Donna remembered their earlier encounter with one of those correctly, before Lorne looked down at Helen’s legs. “You might want to put your shoes on, ma’am,” he said. “No guarantee there’s nothing dangerous on these floors.”

Helen looked between him and her heels skeptically. “I think I’ll take my chances,” she said. “And since when do you check out the First Lady’s legs, airman?”

The colonel shot her a flirty smile. His dimples alone could probably charm the pants off any woman. “Since when does the First Lady have legs worth staring at?”

They all stepped into a transporter, and Donna said, “You’re going to regret that eventually, you know.”

“And why’s that?” Lorne asked, touching the screen behind them, which closed the doors. There was that awful flash of light – Donna didn’t like bright lights much when she was pregnant – and the doors slid open again.

“Last time I heard, you were seriously dating the daughter of a former First Lady,” she replied as they all walked into a new corridor. “And Abbey Bartlet has a way of learning things.”

“So which will bother her more?” the colonel asked. “The implication that her legs aren’t worth looking at, or the fact that I’m dating her daughter but staring at Mrs. Santos’ legs?”

“Beats me,” said Donna. “She’s unpredictable.”

They turned a corner, and a few seconds later, Lorne stopped and knocked on a door. “Come on in,” said a woman’s voice on the other side, and he waved his hand over a raised console next to the door. It slid open like every other door they’d encountered, and they all stepped inside.

Lorne was immediately accosted by two small boys, one tow-headed and the other with hair as black as it was wild. They clung to his legs, and Ellie Bartlet stood behind them, laughing at her boyfriend’s plight. “Hello, dear,” she said, coming up to him and kissing him lightly.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he replied, a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

“Boys, let Marcus walk,” Ellie said to the children, who immediately complied. Then she looked up behind Lorne and said, “Marcus, what in the world–”

“Oh, good grief,” Donna interrupted. “How many times are we going to have to tell this story?”

“Yeah, this is the First Lady and Donna Moss,” Lorne said to Ellie. “I don’t really know why they’re here either, but they’re going to be here for a couple days and they need clothes.”

Ellie looked them over. “So I see. Donna, let’s see if we can find Elizabeth’s maternity clothes for you.”

* * *

  
By dinnertime, their guests had been settled, though John had no idea what Donna and Mrs. Santos were going to do in their two-day stay in Atlantis. Ellie had handled showing them around the place a little, as Elizabeth had meetings with the engineers all afternoon and John was running training exercises with Ronon and some of the new recruits while Lorne did firearms training with some of the civilians.

It had been a busy afternoon, and now Lorne and John were in line in the mess, both of them opting for baked potato soup rather than the roast beef that was being served down the way. “Hey,” Lorne said as he grabbed some crackers, “what’s McKay up to?”

John looked and saw Rodney sitting by himself, staring absently ahead. Following his line of sight, John saw that he was facing, with a pretty clear view, a table of women, including Elizabeth, Cadman, and Teyla. He frowned for a moment before rolling his eyes and leaning over to Lorne conspiratorially. “Look at the ones with their backs to him,” he said.

“Huh? Oh, I get it.” Ellie, Helen, Donna, and Kate were all sitting in a row, each one with blonde hair hanging down her back. “Man,” Lorne said, “I hate it when people remind me that McKay and I have the same type.”

“Yeah, I’m happy that I’ve tended more toward brunettes.” John met Elizabeth’s gaze at that point, and she looked at him oddly. After all, she had the boys with her amid all those women, and it would have been only natural for him to join them for dinner. But he jerked his head toward McKay, and she looked surreptitiously. Then she smirked and gave him a tiny nod.

“I think we just got permission to torment McKay a little,” he said to Lorne. The other man got an evil little smile on his face, and the two of them came around Rodney, who didn’t bat an eyelash at their move until they sat down on either side of him setting their trays down a little louder than was strictly necessary.

“What the–” Rodney began, but Lorne cut him off.

“What do you think he’s staring at, Shep?”

“It is the east,” John teased, “and one of those blondes is the sun, of course.”

Rodney blinked. “When did you start watching _Days of Our Lives_?”

“Man, Rodney, did you sleep through your freshman year of high school?” John asked.

“No, why?”

“That was Shakespeare, genius,” Lorne replied. “ _Romeo and Juliet_ , sort of.”

Rodney grumbled about something before returning his attention to his food. “So who are the new ones?” he asked. “I didn’t think we were getting any new personnel for a while.”

“We’re not,” John said. “The one in the red is Donna Moss. The one on the other side of Ellie is Helen Santos.”

“Helen Santos?” Rodney repeated. “Wait a minute, the Helen Santos? The president’s wife? Oh, I’m a dead man.”

“Were you hitting on her, McKay?” Lorne asked in a patronizing tone. “That means you’ve hit on every woman at that table.”

“Including my wife and his girlfriend,” John added.

There was no point in trying to deny that, so Rodney turned to a different subject. “So what’s going on and why didn’t I know about it before now?”

“There was some sort of artifact in a museum in Wisconsin that turned out to be a transporter,” John explained. “Mrs. Santos has the ATA gene, and it zapped the two of them here.”

“All right, well, now that that mystery’s solved, can the two of you go eat somewhere else?”

“Sure,” Lorne said, getting up. “I think we were done here anyway.”

John followed suit, but added, “You know, Rodney, your sister’s a blonde.”

He held up a hand. “Please, I try not to think about that, especially not while I’m eating.”

“Well, we’ll leave you to drool over the blonde brigade.” John got one last glare for that as he and Lorne walked off.

They headed toward the table occupying Rodney’s attention, and Lorne sat down at the end, next to Ellie, while John squeezed in between Teyla and Peter. He leaned over the kid to kiss Elizabeth’s cheek. “You survive the geeks?” he asked.

“I always survive the geeks,” Elizabeth replied. “I pretend to know what they’re saying and then talk to you or Radek later.”

“Ah, so that’s what pillow talk will be about tonight.”

She blushed slightly, to his surprise, and reached around Peter to pinch him.

“So,” John said, turning his attention to the rest of the table, “Mrs. Santos, how’s your day been?”

“Aside from the obvious?” she asked with a smile. “It’s been interesting. I haven’t felt this anonymous since Matt was elected.”

“You know, I hadn’t thought about that,” Elizabeth remarked. “Most of the expedition isn’t American, and a lot of the Americans have been here so long that they wouldn’t necessarily recognize you.”

Helen glanced over at Cadman. “Yes, I learned that earlier.”

Cadman just sighed and shook her head, so Lorne leaned forward and said, “Kate, want to spill the beans on this one?”

“Laura had no idea who Mrs. Santos was,” Kate replied. “She was in there to borrow some clothes, and she managed to convince Laura that she was new to the nursing staff.”

“How was I supposed to know?” Cadman protested. “It’s not like I’ve _ever_ wondered if some dignitary might show up in Atlantis unannounced.”

“Oh, come on, Cadman,” Lorne said. “You ought to at least recognize _her_.”

“I wasn’t offended, Colonel,” Helen clarified. “I found it kind of funny, actually. Back home, when I come in contact with a Marine he’s usually opening the door for me.”

“Unless it’s the president,” said Donna.

“Not sure he counts,” Helen replied, smiling a little.

The mention of Marines in the White House sent John’s train of thought in a much different direction than the conversation around the table took, and he stayed quiet through most of the meal. Elizabeth talked with Helen and Donna about art and movies and politics and the latest news from her old friends and colleagues back on Earth. Since that conversation dominated the rest of the meal, his own silence wasn’t too conspicuous. Ellie and Lorne were pretty much the only people there who could and would keep up with them.

That evening someone popped _The Princess Bride_ into the system in one of the larger lounges. The movie always attracted a huge audience, whether it was scheduled for movie night or just impromptu like this viewing was. This was the first time John and Elizabeth had felt comfortable letting the boys see it, but while Peter was fine sitting on Ellie’s lap through the entire movie, Josiah got scared during the fire swamp business and John had to carry him outside. Siah’s face was pressed against John’s neck as he let out tiny sobs he was obviously trying to suppress. Sometimes the kid acted so much like his mother it wasn’t funny. Elizabeth never liked showing that she was scared either, but sometimes she just couldn’t hold it in.

Once they were out on a balcony alone with the door closed behind them, Siah let out the most pitiful whimper John could imagine. His son’s cheek was now wet against his neck, and John just held him a little tighter. “Hey, it’s okay, buddy,” he said. “I’m not going to let anything hurt you.”

Siah’s little hands just fisted into John’s shirt as he cried, and it was a long time before he quieted down. He fell asleep shortly after that, as John slowly paced up and down the balcony, humming softly. It was past Siah’s bedtime anyway.

But before he could go back into the city, the door opened. He half-expected to see Elizabeth there to check on their son, but instead he saw Helen Santos on the other side. “Oh,” she said, “I’m sorry, Colonel. I was just looking around a little.”

“No, it’s fine, ma’am,” John replied. “Bored with the movie?”

She shrugged and stepped out. “It’s my daughter’s favorite,” she explained. “I’ve seen it a lot.”

John smiled. “One of my favorites too.”

Helen frowned a little. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, I think the movie was just a little much for him.” He looked down at the child asleep in his arms and kissed the boy’s temple. “You know, this is the weirdest feeling.”

“What’s that?”

“My kid was hurting, and there was absolutely nothing I could do but give him a hug,” John said, unable to keep a note of wonder from his voice. “There’s been lots of times here when I’ve known there was nothing in the world I could do to fix a situation, but I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this helpless.” He looked up and saw that the First Lady had a small, wistful smile on her face. “Sorry,” he said, feeling a little embarrassed. He didn’t add how strange it felt at times that he was responsible for this little boy being alive at all.

“It’s all right,” Helen replied. “Your situation here is unusual, but I don’t think there’s a parent anywhere who can’t relate to that feeling.”

“Your situation’s pretty unusual too,” he remarked as he shifted his son slightly to one side. Siah responded by sticking his thumb in his mouth and snoring softly.

“Well, no life-sucking aliens for me to worry about, and until this morning, no random gene-activated technology either,” she said. “Of all the things Matt was worried about during the first campaign and then the transition, I think one of the things he worried about most was what him being president could do to our kids.”

“Was he right to worry?”

Helen shrugged. “For the entire month of March after Matt’s inauguration, our son Peter didn’t do his homework at all,” she said. “I found this out and set up a conference with the teacher, because I’d just gotten his progress report and he had straight A’s. I finally got the teacher to admit that she didn’t want to give a lower grade to the president’s son, and Peter had figured that out.”

“Smart kid,” John replied, chuckling. At Helen’s raised brow, he added, “Who obviously wasn’t applying his intelligence very well.”

She leaned against a nearby post, from which she could both look out over the city and the ocean and look at him as they talked. “So I got him into a class with a teacher who was willing to fail him if need be,” she said.

“You should ask Ellie Bartlet about that,” he remarked. “Zoey had Elizabeth in class one semester at Georgetown, and Ellie was finally convinced that Elizabeth wasn’t just using Jed for her own career advancement when she gave Zoey a C.”

She smiled and was quiet for a little while, as Siah woke up enough to ask for his soccer ball. When John looked back at her, her smile had faded, replaced by a look of curiosity mixed with concern. “Is there something you want to ask me, John?”

He stroked his son’s back and looked at the lights of the city below them. “I don’t know, Helen,” he replied truthfully. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” she said, “I’m not as active as some First Ladies have been, but I do hear things. I know about the speculation that Dr. Weir is going to run for president. So if things start happening and you want to ask someone who’s been through this. . .”

John couldn’t resist. He smirked and said, “Your husband won’t mind if you start getting personal calls from another man?”

Helen grinned back in kind. “He knows I have a weakness for flyboys.”

Laughing, they headed back inside, to the lounge where the movie was well past the part that had scared Siah so badly. When John sat down, the kid woke up just enough to climb onto Elizabeth’s lap and snuggle up to her. Elizabeth looked at John oddly. “Were you and Helen talking?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah,” he replied.

She looked at him for a moment longer, and it seemed that she could guess what their conversation had been about. “I’m glad,” she said.

John put his arm around her, toying with curls just behind her ear. “Yeah, so am I.”

* * *

  
Elizabeth went through the next day almost entirely on autopilot, her mind constantly drifting back to the fact that John had talked with Helen Santos. In the months since the Nobel trip and her conversation with Josh, she’d been wondering and worrying about how her pursuit of a political career might affect him and their marriage.

She figured she didn’t have many illusions about that – she’d been friends with Jed Bartlet for too long to believe that the life of a politician wasn’t stressful on the politician’s family, even without kidnappings and debilitating diseases in the mix. She also knew that her life now was hardly low-stress, but John was a natural at what they did now. It was not a given that he would take to vastly different challenges and problems as easily, and sometimes that worried her.

She was out on the balcony of the control room pondering in this when the door opened, and she turned to see Helen with her arms crossed over her middle. “It’s cold out here,” the blonde woman said.

Elizabeth laughed. “I love it. Reminds me of autumn in New York.”

“Well, I can understand that, I guess,” Helen said, walking to the railing. “I spent too long in Houston.”

“We’ve not heard anything from the SGC today,” Elizabeth said. “I’m going to take that as good news. You and Donna should be able to go home tomorrow.”

“That eager to get rid of me, huh?” Helen teased.

Elizabeth smiled. “I’m sure your family’s anxious to have you back again.”

“Who knew that a six-hour trip to Wisconsin would take this long?”

“Don’t mention that out there,” she said, nodding toward the control room. “Someone’s bound to rewrite the lyrics to the _Gilligan’s Island_ theme. Again.”

Helen smiled a little and looked down at her shoes. “This is a little awkward for me,” she said. “When Matt and I talked yesterday, he wanted me to glean some information while I was here.”

Elizabeth smothered a smile of her own. She’d half expected it. “You don’t strike me as the spy type.”

“I told him I’d talk to you if I had a chance,” she replied. “There are a lot of questions my husband’s staff would like answered.”

“Like, am I running for president?”

“No, they want to know if you’re a fascist.”

Elizabeth burst out laughing, and Helen got a smug smile on her face. “I hadn’t expected that out of you,” Elizabeth said when she’d recovered a bit.

“Guess you don’t know me very well.”

“Guess not.” Elizabeth sobered and added, “Of course, I think all elected officials have to be a little bit fascist to be elected.”

“True.” Helen sighed. “You’ve been the wild card in Matt’s administration, Elizabeth. You’re far enough away that he doesn’t have to worry with you, but then you come back and say things about the Geneva Convention that makes the whole world nervous. Matt didn’t give you your job, and he just can’t control you.”

Elizabeth leaned her elbows on the railing. “What did they think I was doing with the Geneva Convention article?”

“That you were setting up. Separating yourself from the horde of Democrats who are considering a run.” Helen looked her straight in the eye. “You know that our viable candidates aren’t going to announce until they know what you’re doing.”

“Probably a lot of the viable Republican candidates too,” Elizabeth replied, shaking her head. “You know, there was a time when I thought there was no way I was leaving Atlantis, ever.”

“Are you thinking about it now?” Helen asked gently.

“John and I have been talking about it for a few months, every once in a while,” she said. “I just never seriously thought there’d be a job that could compare to this one.”

“Let me guess,” Helen replied. “That was before you had two boys a year apart?”

Elizabeth laughed. “That does sound like it was a bad idea in retrospect. Somehow I’m not looking forward to feeding them both when they’re teenagers.”

“Hey, at least it’ll be over in one shot.”

* * *

  
And the next day Helen and Donna were uneventfully transported via a puddle jumper and the intergalactic gate bridge to the SGC. They’d both enjoyed their impromptu stay in Atlantis, but both of them were very, very glad to be back on terra firma again.

They got back to Washington late at night, and Josh was waiting impatiently for them as their military flight landed. As soon as they were close enough he grabbed Donna and clung like it was the end of the world. It looked like Donna’s finely-honed composure was finally breaking down in the wake of hormones and lack of sleep. Helen didn’t figure that they’d be letting go of each other any time soon, so she patted Josh on the back a little awkwardly and headed to the waiting limousine.

When she was returned to the White House, she found Matt still awake in the Residence. She’d been told on her way there that he’d been dealing with some problem in Indonesia or something, which was why he hadn’t been there at the plane. “Matt?” she said upon seeing him. “Honey, it’s three in the morning.”

“I know,” he said. He got up and crossed the room to embrace her tightly. “Mmm. Missed you.”

Helen smiled and reached up to kiss him. “So how much were you freaking out?”

“I was a picture of tranquility.”

“I don’t buy that for a minute.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t.” He looped his arm around her waist and they started walking toward the bed. She paused long enough to kick her shoes off. “Listen, Helen, I want to apologize for asking you to spy on Dr. Weir.”

“You’re allowed to make stupid requests every now and then,” she replied. “And it’s better that you make them of me than of someone who’d be charged with treason if they said no.”

“That’s a good point.” Matt sat down on the bed, pulling her down beside him. “I really am sorry.”

“It’s okay, Matt,” Helen said. “I did talk to her, though. Colonel Sheppard too.”

“And?”

“She’s a tough nut to crack,” she said after a deep breath. “But judging from what _he_ was saying and not saying, I think he knows that she’s going to run, whether she’s actually decided that or not.” She noticed then that he was staring at her intently, and possibly not listening to her at all. “What is it?”

Matt brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “I don’t know,” he said, “but you look hotter than when you left. Maybe it’s the whole genetic mutant thing.”

Eyes narrowed, Helen reached behind herself to grab a pillow, and in one sweeping arc she whacked him in the chest with it.

* * *

  
Even when she had work left to do, Elizabeth always made time to tuck the boys in after their father had told them a bedtime story. When he wasn’t in Atlantis, she read stories like Winnie the Pooh to them. Her readings took less time but admittedly weren’t as entertaining.

This night’s, which she only heard about half of, featured pirates named Peter and Siah, who sailed in the ocean around Atlantis and rescued two pretty young princesses whose names sounded suspiciously like Teyla’s daughters. She and John were also apparently characters in this, though John’s storytelling style was meandering enough that she couldn’t figure out what in the world they were doing.

When the story had ended happily, Elizabeth came up to kiss Peter’s forehead and tuck him in. He smiled at her drowsily, and she knelt next to Siah’s low platform bed and did the same. “Love you, Mommy,” Siah said.

“I love you too, baby boy,” she replied. “Good night.”

She and John walked into their bedroom together. “You have work to do?” John asked quietly as the door between the rooms closed behind them.

“I’m all done for the night, actually,” Elizabeth replied. “Kind of remarkable. You?”

“I was thinking about writing to McKay’s sister to tell her about him hitting on the First Lady, actually,” he said, putting his arms around her waist and drawing her close.

“You have to be joking.”

“I rounded up witnesses.”

Elizabeth chuckled and kissed him. “It’s a good thing you never try to embarrass me.”

John just smiled enigmatically and kissed the base of her neck. She shivered at the contact, and they began to sway, dancing to some music that was only in John’s mind. Elizabeth leaned into him. They didn’t get quiet moments like this all that often.

“Helen talked to me last night,” she said.

“I figured she might,” John replied. “Had President Santos asked her to spy on you?”

“Pretty much.” She sighed against his neck. “Every time I talk with someone on Earth, I get the feeling that the party’s running blind, just waiting for me to do something.”

“Elizabeth, do you want to be president?”

He’d never addressed the matter so openly, so she looked up at him. “I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “I worry about what that’d do to our kids. To us.”

“Do you think you can do this?”

Her eyes locked with his, she asked, “Do you?”

They finally came to a stop. “I think you can do anything, Elizabeth,” he replied quietly. “And I’m not letting go of you, no matter what.”

The slow, deep kiss that followed did not surprise Elizabeth in the slightest.

Later that night, while John slept soundly with his arm around her, she started thinking of what it might be like to go back to Earth for good, maybe getting a house with an actual yard that the boys could play in. It would be so strange for all of them. She doubted that they would ever be wanting for occupation, but she knew that they would all miss the people here. She would miss the work, the thrill of exploration.

But she also remembered that day on Air Force One, years ago, the first time President Bartlet had told her that she would one day be in his shoes. Whenever he spoke about it, he had such a proud look on his face that Elizabeth’s heart ached. In the quiet of the night, she was willing to admit to herself that part of her reticence on the matter was her fear of letting him down.

She turned her head to look at her husband, thinking of what he’d said and knowing that he really would be there at her side through the difficult times as well as the easy times. She hadn’t given him a straight answer before, but the truth was that if there were no other factors to consider, then yes, she did want to be president. There were other factors to consider, however, not the least of which were the two little boys sleeping in the next room and the man beside her.

Yawning, Elizabeth rolled over to face him, resting her hand against his warm chest as he pulled her closer in his sleep. John, in his usual direct manner, had given her something – the knowledge that no matter what, he’d stand by her, and the belief that she would serve their country well.

He had given her a reason to say yes.


End file.
